


the road is long, and you are beautiful

by constellationsofsentences



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-War, Road Trip, not an au but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:31:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8385511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellationsofsentences/pseuds/constellationsofsentences
Summary: Dean and Seamus are on a post-war road trip extravaganza!
or I don't really know what to call this lmao they buy each other presents and stuff.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a super quick thing I came up with! Hope you enjoy!

The car trundled steadily along the road, and the two people within it began to dose off. Dean looked at his boyfriend’s sandy head, which had fallen forward onto the dashboard as Seamus slept. _His boyfriend_ —Dean was still getting used to the idea. Everything about this situations seemed far too peaceful, and Dean was half expecting a band of Snatchers to appear and grab him out of this broken down car. Dean sighed—the last year had certainly not been the best, but, as he gazed at the boy beside him, Dean found something growing in his chest that he hadn't felt in a long while. It was like the feeling he got all the top of a rollercoaster: some fear, but mostly a frenzied anticipation. On this tiny road in this second-hand car in the middle of France, Dean finally felt like he had a destination.  
Beside him, Seamus yawned.   
“Hey,” Dean said, and shook him, lightly. “D’you want to get up?”

—

They found breakfast in a tiny Crèperie on a street corner, and Dean watched the sun rise as Seamus ploughed his way through his third helping of waffles.   
“You’re going to burst,” Dean said.  
“Nah,” Seamus replied, “I’ll survive.”   
“Sure you will,” Dean said, and then, “shall we go find a shitty souvenir shop?”  
“Why, Mr Thomas,” Seamus said, in a terrible posh accent, “I thought you’d never ask.”  
They found three, in fact, but settled on a shop descriptively titled **Nice Souvenirs**. Behind a pair of leggings which read ‘ _I ♥︎ Nice_ ’ on the bum, which Seamus suggested they should buy for Lavender— “ _She will tattoo that on_ your _bum_!”—Dean found a key ring with a cartoon beret-wearing man brandishing a baguette with a furious smile on his face, and exclaiming ‘ _J’adore le France!_ ’.  
“Christ,” Dean muttered, and went to buy it. 

—

In Switzerland, Seamus found a magnet of a skier decked in a polka dot jacket and the biggest sunglasses Dean had ever seen on a miniature skier. Seamus presented him with it with a flourish, and a soft kiss on the cheek, and Dean felt it again—that strange warmth, filling him up, like he had drunk a whole gallon of hot chocolate. He'd accepted it, graciously, and put it safely in his wallet with a few galleons.

In a corner shop in Rome, Dean dug up a model of the pope which waved in the sunlight. Seamus, when given it, had let out a marvellous laugh and then pulled Dean off to get Gelato. He tucked it into the water bottle compartment of his rucksack, and every time Dean saw the white hat and heard the soft _click click click_ of the hand, he would start to laugh.

At the leaning tower of Pisa, Seamus bought a tiny model pizza that seemed to be both a pen and a flashlight. Dean had retaliated with a mini gladiator’s helmet that Seamus shoved onto his pinkie and refused to take off for the rest of the day.

Germany brought more excitements—Dean unearthed a postcard with _bratwurst_ on the front, which he used to write a letter to Neville with his new German Flag pen (a gift from Seamus—it ran out of ink almost as soon as it touched the paper). Neville responded with an owl that rivalled Erroll with its incompetence, and followed them around for two days with a card that was just full of pictures from Luna and Ginny, who seemed to be staying with him. 

—

When they arrived home, laden with the spoils of the trip, it took three carrier bags to get them all inside.  
Dean watched as Seamus carefully put his plastic pope on the windowsill above the sink, and he felt it again, the warmth, and this time he knew what it was. He grinned, and went to put the flag pen in the penpot. The radio crackled in the background: Potterwatch was on—Lee Jordan was discussing the atrocity that was the fact that Harry had worn odd socks yesterday.  
Seamus laughed, and a smile crept his way into Dean’s lips. Seamus grinned back, and, though Dean was intently arranging magnets on the fridge, and Seamus was adding trinkets to his keys, their hands found each other. Dean had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

—

_Seamus—_  
Thanks for the leggings. As much I appreciate the thought, please don't send me anything like that again.  
—Lavender  
p.s. Parvati says they're attractive. She's barking. 


End file.
